University of Virginia Library

15. CHAPTER XV.

Tempest.

The situation of the Montauk appeared more desolate
than ever, after the departure of so many of her passengers.
So long as her decks were thronged there was an air of life
about her, that served to lessen disquietude, but now that
she was left by all in the steerage, and by so many in the
cabins, those who remained began to entertain livelier apprehensions
of the future. When the upper sails of the
store-ship sunk as a speck in the ocean, Mr. Effingham regretted
that he, too, had not overcome his reluctance to a
crowded and inconvenient cabin, and gone on board her,
with his own party. Thirty years before he would have
thought himself fortunate in finding so good a ship, and
accommodations so comfortable; but habit and indulgence
change all our opinions, and he had now thought it next to
impossible to place Eve and Mademoiselle Viefville in a
situation that was so common to those who travelled by sea
at the commencement of the century.

Most of the cabin passengers, as has just been stated, decided
differently, none remaining but the Effinghams and

their party, Mr. Sharp, Mr. Blunt, Sir George Templemore,
Mr. Dodge, and Mr. Monday. Mr. Effingham had been
influenced by the superior comforts of the packet, and his
hopes that a speedy arrival at the islands would enable the
ship to refit, in time to reach America almost as soon as the
dull-sailing vessel which had just left them. Mr. Sharp
and Mr. Blunt had both expressed a determination to share
his fortunes, which was indirectly saying that they would
share the fortunes of his daughter. John Effingham remained,
as a matter of course, though he had made a proposition
to the stranger to tow them into port, an arrangement
that failed in consequence of the two captains disagreeing
as to the course proper to be steered, as well as to
a more serious obstacle in the way of compensation, the
stranger throwing out some pretty plain hints about salvage,
and Mr. Monday staying from an inveterate attachment to
the steward's stores, more of which, he rightly judged,
would now fall to his share than formerly.

Sir George Templemore had gone on board the store-ship,
and had given some very clear demonstrations of an
intention to transfer himself and the thirty-six pair of
breeches to that vessel; but on examining her comforts,
and particularly the confined place in which he should be
compelled to stow himself and his numerous curiosities, he
was unequal to the sacrifice. On the other hand, he knew
an entire state-room would now fall to his share, and this
self-indulged and feeble-minded young man preferred his
immediate comfort, and the gratification of his besetting
weakness, to his safety.

As for Mr. Dodge, he had the American mania of hurry,
and was one of the first to propose a general swarming, as
soon as it was known the stranger could receive them.
During the night, he had been actively employed in fomenting
a party to “resolve” that prudence required the Montauk
should be altogether abandoned, and even after this
scheme failed, he had dwelt eloquently in corners (Mr.
Dodge was too meek, and too purely democratic, ever to
speak aloud, unless under the shadow of public opinion,) on
the propriety of Captain Truck's yielding his own judgment
to that of the majority. He might as well have scolded

against the late gale, in the expectation of out-railing the
tempest, as to make such an attempt on the firm-set notions
of the old seaman concerning his duty; for no sooner was
the thing intimated to him than he growled a denial in a
tone that he was little accustomed to use to his passengers,
and one that effectually silenced remonstrance. When
these two plans had failed, Mr. Dodge endeavoured strenuously
to show Sir George that his interests and safety were
on the side of a removal; but with all his eloquence, and
with the hold that incessant adulation had actually given
him on the mind of the other, he was unable to overcome
his love of ease, and chiefly the passion for the enjoyment
of the hundred articles of comfort and curiosity in which
the baronet so much delighted. The breeches might have
been packed in a trunk, it is true, and so might the razors,
and the dressing-case, and the pistols, and most of the other
things; but Sir George loved to look at them daily, and as
many as possible were constantly paraded before his eyes.

To the surprise of every one, Mr. Dodge, on finding it
impossible to prevail on Sir George Templemore to leave
the packet, suddenly announced his own intention to remain
also. Few stopped to inquire into his motives in the hurry
of such a moment. To his room-mate he affirmed that the
strong friendship he had formed for him, could alone induce
him to relinquish the hope of reaching home previously to
the autumn elections.

Nor did Mr. Dodge greatly colour the truth in making
this statement. He was an American demagogue precisely
in obedience to those feelings and inclinations which would
have made him a courtier anywhere else. It is true, he had
travelled, or thought he had travelled, in a diligence with
a countess or two, but from these he had been obliged to
separate early on account of the force of things; while
here he had got a bonâ-fide English baronet all to himself,
in a confined state-room, and his imagination revelled in
the glory and gratification of such an acquaintance. What
were the proud and distant Effinghams to Sir George Templemore!
He even ascribed their reserve with the baronet
to envy, a passion of whose existence he had very lively
perceptions, and he found a secret charm in being shut up

in so small an apartment with a man who could excite envy
in an Effingham. Rather than abandon his aristocratical
prize, therefore, whom he intended to exhibit to all his democratic
friends in his own neighbourhood, Mr. Dodge determined
to abandon his beloved hurry, looking for his
reward in the future pleasure of talking of Sir George
Templemore and his curiosities, and of his sayings and his
jokes, in the circle at home. Odd, moreover, as it may
seem, Mr. Dodge had an itching desire to remain with the
Effinghams; for while he was permitting jealousy and a
consciousness of inferiority to beget hatred, he was willing
at any moment to make peace, provided it could be done
by a frank admission into their intimacy. As to the innocent
family that was rendered of so much account to the
happiness of Mr. Dodge, it seldom thought of that individual
at all, little dreaming of its own importance in his
estimation, and merely acted in obedience to its own cultivated
tastes and high principles in disliking his company.
It fancied itself, in this particular, the master of its own
acts, and this so much the more, that with the reserve of
good-breeding its members seldom indulged in censorious
personal remarks, and never in gossip.

As a consequence of these contradictory feelings of Mr.
Dodge, and of the fastidiousness of Sir George Templemore,
the interest her two admirers took in Eve, the devotion
of Mr. Monday to sherry and champaigne, and the
decision of Mr. Effingham, these persons therefore remained
the sole occupants of the cabins of the Montauk. Of the
oi polloi who had left them, we have hitherto said nothing,
because this separation was to remove them entirely from
the interest of our incidents.

If we were to say that Captain Truck did not feel melancholy
as the store-ship sunk beneath the horizon, we should
represent that stout-hearted mariner as more stoical than
he actually was. In the course of a long and adventurous
professional life, he had encountered calamities before, but
he had never before been compelled to call in assistance to
deliver his passengers at the stipulated port, since he had
commanded a packet. He felt the necessity, in the present
instance, as a sort of stain upon his character as a seaman,

though in fact the accident which had occurred was chiefly
to be attributed to a concealed defect in the mainmast. The
honest master sighed often, smoked nearly double the usual
number of cigars in the course of the afternoon, and when
the sun went down gloriously in the distant west, he stood
gazing at the sky in melancholy silence, as long as any of
the magnificent glory that accompanies the decline of day
lingered among the vapours of the horizon. He then summoned
Saunders to the quarter-deck, where the following
dialogue took place between them:

“This is a devil of a category to be in, Master Steward!”

“Well, he might be better, sir. I only wish the good
butter may endure until we get in.”

“If it fail, I shall go nigh to see you clapt into the State's
prison, or at least into that Gothic cottage on Blackwell's
Island.”

“There is an end to all things, Captain Truck, if you
please, sir, even to butter. I presume, sir, Mr. Vattel, if
he know anything of cookery, will admit that.”

“Harkee, Saunders, if you ever insinuate again that
Vattel belonged to the coppers, in my presence, I'll take
the liberty to land you on the coast here, where you may
amuse yourself in stewing young monkeys for your own
dinner. I saw you aboard the other ship, sir, overhauling
her arrangements; what sort of a time will the gentlemen
be likely to have in her?”

“Atrocious, sir! I give you my honour, as a real gentleman,
sir. Why, would you believe it, Captain Truck, the
steward is a downright nigger, and he wears ear-rings, and
a red flannel shirt, without the least edication. As for the
cook, sir, he would'nt pass an examination for Jemmy Ducks
aboard here, and there is but one camboose, and one set of
coppers.”

“Well, the steerage-passengers, in that case, will fare as
well as the cabin.”

“Yes, sir, and the cabin as bad as the steerage; and for
my part, I abomernate liberty and equality.”

“You should converse with Mr. Dodge on that subject,
Master Saunders, and let the hardest fend off in the argument.
May I inquire, sir, if you happen to remember the
day of the week?”

“Beyond controversy, sir; to-morrow will be Sunday,
Captain Truck, and I think it a thousand pities we have
not an opportunity to solicit the prayers and praises of the
church, sir, in our behalf, sir.”

“If to-morrow will be Sunday, to-day must be Saturday,
Mr. Saunders, unless this last gale has deranged the calendar.”

“Quite naturally, sir, and werry justly remarked. Every
body admits there is no better navigator than Captain
Truck, sir.”

“This may be true, my honest fellow,” returned the
captain moodily, after making three or four heavy puffs at
the cigar; “but I am sadly out of my road down here in
the country of your amiable family, just now. If this be
Saturday, there will be a Saturday night before long, and
look to it, that we have our `sweethearts and wives.'
Though I have neither myself, I feel the necessity of something
cheerful, to raise my thoughts to the future.”

“Depend on my discretion, sir, and I rejoice to hear you
say it; for I think, sir, a ship is never so respectable and
genteel as when she celebrates all the anniwersaries. You
will be quite a select and agreeable party to-night, sir.”

With this remark Mr. Saunders withdrew, to confer with
Toast on the subject, and Captain Truck proceeded to give
his orders for the night to Mr. Leach. The proud ship did
indeed present a sight to make a seaman melancholy; for
to the only regular sail that stood, the foresail, by this time
was added a lower studding-sail, imperfectly rigged, and
which would not resist a fresh puff, while a very inartificial
jury-topmast supported a topgallant-sail, that could only be
carried in a free wind. Aft, preparations were making of
a more permanent nature, it is true. The upper part of the
mainmast had been cut away, as low as the steerage-deck,
where an arrangement had been made to step a spare topmast.
The spar itself was lying on the deck rigged, and a
pair of sheers were in readiness to be hoisted, in order to
sway it up; but night approaching, the men had been broken
off, to rig the yards, bend the sails, and to fit the other spars
it was intended to use, postponing the last act, that of sending
all up, until morning.

“We are likely to have a quiet night of it,” said the captain,
glancing his eyes round at the heavens; “and at eight
o'clock to-morrow let all hands be called, when we will
turn-to with a will, and make a brig of the old hussey.
This topmast will do to bear the strain of the spare main-yard,
unless there come another gale, and by reefing the
new mainsail we shall be able to make something out of it.
The topgallant-mast will fit of course above, and we may
make out, by keeping a little free, to carry the sail: at need,
we may possibly coax the contrivance into carrying a studding-sail
also. We have sticks for no more, though we'll
endeavour to get up something aft, out of the spare spars
obtained from the store-ship. You may knock off at four
bells, Mr. Leach, and let the poor fellows have their Saturday's
night in peace. It is a misfortune enough to be dismasted,
without having one's grog stopped.”

The mate of course obeyed, and the evening shut in beautifully
and placid, with all the glory of a mild night, in a
latitude as low as that they were in. They who have never
seen the ocean under such circumstances, know little of its
charms in its moments of rest. The term of sleeping is
well applied to its impressive stillness, for the long sluggish
swells on which the ship rose and fell, hardly disturbed its
surface. The moon did not rise until midnight, and Eve,
accompanied by Mademoiselle Viefville and most of her
male companions, walked the deck by the bright starlight,
until fatigued with pacing their narrow bounds.

The song and the laugh rose frequently from the forecastle,
where the crew were occupied with their Saturday-night;
and occasionally a rude sentiment in the way of a
toast was heard. But weariness soon got the better of merriment
forward, and the hard-worked mariners, who had
the watch below, soon went down to their berths, leaving
those whose duty it was to remain to doze away the long
hours in such places as they could find on deck.

“A white squall,” said Captain Truck, looking up at the
uncouth sails that hardly impelled the vessel a mile in the
hour through the water, “would soon furl all our canvas
for us, and we are in the very place for such an interlude.”

“And what would then become of us?” asked Mademoiselle
Viefville quickly.

“You had better ask what would become of that apology
for a topsail, mam'selle, and yonder stun'sail, which looks
like an American in London without straps to his pantaloons.
The canvas would play kite, and we should be left to renew
our inventions. A ship could scarcely be in better plight
than we are at this moment, to meet with one of these African
flurries.”

“In which case, captain,” observed Mr. Monday, who
stood by the skylight watching the preparations below, “we
can go to our Saturday-night without fear; for I see the
steward has everything ready, and the punch looks very
inviting, to say nothing of the champaigne.”

“Gentlemen, we will not forget our duty,” returned the
captain; “we are but a small family, and so much the
greater need that we should prove a jolly one. Mr. Effingham,
I hope we are to have the honour of your company
at `sweethearts and wives.' ”

Mr. Effingham had no wife, and the invitation coming
under such peculiar circumstances, produced a pang that
Eve, who felt his arm tremble, well understood. She mildly
intimated her intention to go below however; the whole
party followed, and lucky it was for the captain's entertainment
that she quitted the deck, as few would otherwise have
been present at it. By pressing the passengers to favour
him with their company, he succeeded in the course of a
few minutes in getting all the gentlemen seated at the cabin-table,
with a glass of delicious punch before each man.

“Mr. Saunders may not be a conjuror or a mathematician,
gentlemen,” cried Captain Truck, as he ladled out
the beverage; “but he understands the philosophy of sweet
and sour, strong and weak; and I will venture to praise his
liquor without tasting it. Well, gentlemen, there are better-rigged
ships on the ocean than this of ours; but there are
few with more comfortable cabins, or stouter hulls, or better
company. Please God we can get a few sticks aloft again,
now that we are quit of our troublesome shadow, I think I
may flatter myself with a reasonable hope of landing you,
that do me the honour to stand by me, in New York, in less
time than a common drogger would make the passage, with
all his legs and arms. Let our first toast be, if you please

`A happy end to that which has had a disastrous beginning.'
”

Captain Truck's hard face twitched a little while he was
making this address, and as he swallowed the punch, his
eyes glistened in spite of himself. Mr. Dodge, Sir George,
and Mr. Monday repeated the sentiment sonorously, word
for word, while the other gentlemen bowed, and drank it in
silence.

The commencement of a regular scene of merriment is
usually dull and formal, and it was some time before Captain
Truck could bring any of his companions up to the point
where he wished to see them; for though a perfectly sober
man, he loved a social glass, and particularly at those times
and seasons which conformed to the practice of his calling.
Although Eve and her governess had declined taking their
seats at the table, they consented to place themselves where
they might be seen, and where they might share occasionally
in the conversation.

“Here have I been drinking sweethearts and wives of a
Saturday-night, my dear young lady, these forty years and
more,” said Captain Truck, after the party had sipped their
liquor for a minute or two, “without ever falling into luck's
latitude, or furnishing myself with either; but, though so
negligent of my own interests and happiness, I make it an
invariable rule to advise all my young friends to get spliced
before they are thirty. Many is the man who has come
aboard my ship a determined bachelor in his notions, who
has left it at the end of the passage ready to marry the first
pretty young woman he fell in with.”

As Eve had too much of the self-respect of a lady, and
of the true dignity of her sex, to permit jokes concerning
matrimony, or a treatise on love, to make a part of her
conversation, and all the gentlemen of her party understood
her character too well, to say nothing of their own habits,
to second this attempt of the captain's, after a vapid remark
or two from the others, this rally of the honest mariner produced
no suites.

“Are we not unusually low, Captain Truck,” inquired
Paul Blunt, with a view to change the discourse, “not to
have fallen in with the trades? I have commonly met with

those winds on this coast as high as twenty-six or twenty-seven,
and I believe you observed to-day, in twenty-four.”

Captain Truck looked hard at the speaker, and when he
had done, he nodded his head in approbation.

“You have travelled this road before, Mr. Blunt, I perceive.
I have suspected you of being a brother chip, from
the moment I saw you first put your foot on the side-cleets
in getting out of the boat. You did not come aboard parrot-toed,
like a country-girl waltzing; but set the ball of
the foot firmly on the wood, and swung off the length of
your arms, like a man who knows how to humour the muscles.
Your present remark, too, shows you understand
where a ship ought to be, in order to be in her right place.
As for the trades, they are a little uncertain, like a lady's
mind when she has more than one good offer; for I've
known them to blow as high as thirty, and then again, to
fail a vessel as low as twenty-three, or even lower. It is
my private opinion, gentlemen, and I gladly take this oppor
tunity to make it public, that we are on the edge of the
trades, or in those light baffling winds which prevail along
their margin, as eddies play near the track of strong steady
currents in the ocean. If we can force the ship fairly out
of this trimming region—that is the word, I believe, Mr.
Dodge—we shall do well enough; for a north-east, or an
east wind, would soon send us up with the islands, even
under the rags we carry. We are very near the coast,
certainly—much nearer than I could wish; but when we
do get the good breeze, it will be all the better for us, as it
will find us well to windward.”

“But these trades, Captain Truck?” asked Eve: “if they
always blow in the same direction, how is it possible that
the late gale should drive a ship into the quarter of the
ocean where they prevail?”

“Always, means sometimes, my dear young lady. Although
light winds prevail near the edge of the trades, gales,
and tremendous fellows too, sometimes blow there also, as
we have just seen. I think we shall now have settled weather,
and that our chance of a safe arrival, more particularly
in some southern American port, is almost certain,
though our chance for a speedy arrival be not quite as good.

I hope before twenty-four hours are passed, to see our decks
white with sand.

“Is that a phenomenon seen here?” asked the father.

“Often, Mr. Effingham, when ships are close in with
Africa, and are fairly in the steady winds. To say the
truth, the country abreast of us, some twenty or thirty
miles distant, is not the most inviting; and though it may
not be easy to say where the garden of Eden is, it is not
hazardous to say it is not there.”

“If we are so very near the coast, why do we not see
it?”

“Perhaps we might from aloft, if we had any aloft just
now. We are to the southward of the mountains, however,
and off a part of the country where the Great Desert makes
from the coast. And now, gentlemen, I perceive Mr. Monday
finds all this sand arid, and I ask permission to give
you, one and all, `Sweethearts and wives.' ”

Most of the company drank the usual toast with spirit,
though both the Effinghams scarce wetted their lips. Eve
stole a timid glance at her father, and her own eyes were
filled with tears as she withdrew them; for she knew that
every allusion of this nature revived in him mournful recollections.
As for her cousin Jack, he was so confirmed
a bachelor that she thought nothing of his want of sympathy
with such a sentiment.

“You must have a care for your heart, in America, Sir
George Templemore,” cried Mr. Dodge, whose tongue
loosened with the liquor he drank. “Our ladies are celebrated
for their beauty, and are immensely popular, I can
assure you.”

Sir George looked pleased, and it is quite probable
his thoughts ran on the one particular vestment of the six-and-thirty,
in which he ought to make his first appearance
in such a society.

“I allow the American ladies to be handsome,” said Mr.
Monday; “but I think no Englishman need be in any particular
danger of his heart from such a cause, after having
been accustomed to the beauty of his own island. Captain
Truck, I have the honour to drink your health.”

“Fairly said,” cried the captain, bowing to the compliment;

“and I ascribe my own hard fortune to the fact that
I have been kept sailing between two countries so much favoured
in this particular, that I have never been able to
make up my mind which to prefer. I have wished a thousand
times there was but one handsome woman in the
world, when a man would have nothing to do but fall in
love with her; and make up his mind to get married at
once, or to hang himself.”

“That is a cruel wish to us men,” returned Sir George,
“as we should be certain to quarrel for the beauty.”

“In such a case,” resumed Mr. Monday, “we common
men would have to give way to the claims of the nobility
and gentry, and satisfy ourselves with plainer companions;
though an Englishman loves his independence, and might
rebel. I have the honour to drink your health and happiness,
Sir George.”

“I protest against your principle, Mr. Monday,” said
Mr. Dodge, “which is an invasion on human rights. Perfect
freedom of action is to be maintained in this matter as in
all others. I acknowledge that the English ladies are extremely
beautiful, but I shall always maintain the supremacy
of the American fair.”

“We will drink their healths, sir. I am far from denying
their beauty, Mr. Dodge, but I think you must admit that
they fade earlier than our British ladies. God bless them
both, however, and I empty this glass to the two entire nations,
with all my heart and soul.”

“Perfectly polite, Mr. Monday; but as to the fading of
the ladies, I am not certain that I can yield an unqualified
approbation to your sentiment.”

“Nay, sir, your climate, you will allow, is none of the
best, and it wears out constitutions almost as fast as your
states make them.”

“I hope there is no real danger to be apprehended from
the climate,” said Sir George: “I particularly detest bad
climates; and for that reason have always made it a rule
never to go into Lincolnshire.”

“In that case, Sir George, you had better have stayed
at home. In the way of climate, a man seldom betters
himself by leaving old England. Now this is the tenth

time I've been in America, allowing that I ever reach there,
and although I entertain a profound respect for the country,
I find myself growing older every time I quit it. Mr.
Effingham, I do myself the favour to drink to your health
and happiness.”

“You live too well when amongst us, Mr. Monday,”
said the captain; “there are too many soft crabs, hard
clams, and canvas-backs; too much old Madeira, and generous
Sherry, for a man of your well-known taste to resist
them. Sit less time at table, and go oftener to church
this trip, and let us hear your report of the consequences a
twelvemonth hence.”

“You quite mistake my habits, Captain Truck, I give
you my honour. Although a judicious eater, I seldom take
anything that is compounded, being a plain roast and boiled
man; a true old-fashioned Englishman in this respect, satisfying
my appetite with solid beef and mutton, and turkeys
and pork, and puddings and potatoes, and turnips and carrots,
and similar simple food; and then I never drink.—
Ladies, I ask the honour to be permitted to wish you a happy
return to your native countries.—I ascribe all the difficulty,
sir, to the climate, which will not permit a man to
digest properly.”

“Well, Mr. Monday, I subscribe to most of your opinions,
and I believe few men cross the ocean together that
are more harmonious in sentiment, in general, than has
proved to be the case between you and Sir George, and myself,”
observed Mr. Dodge, glancing obliquely and pointedly
at the rest of the party, as if he thought they were in
a decided minority; “but in this instance, I feel constrained
to record my vote in the negative. I believe America
has as good a climate, and as good general digestion as
commonly falls to the lot of mortals: more than this I do
not claim for the country, and less than this I should be reluctant
to maintain. I have travelled a little, gentlemen,
not as much, perhaps, as the Messrs. Effinghams; but then
a man can see no more than is to be seen, and I do affirm,
Captain Truck, that in my poor judgment, which I know is
good for nothing—”

“Why do you use it, then?” abruptly asked the straightforward
captain; “why not rely on a better?”

“We must use such as we have, or go without, sir; and
I suspect, in my very poor judgment, which is probably
poorer than that of most others on board, that America is a
very good sort of a country. At all events, after having
seen something of other countries, and governments, and
people, I am of opinion that America, as a country, is quite
good enough for me.”

“You never said truer words, Mr. Dodge, and I beg you
will join Mr. Monday and myself in a fresh glass of punch,
just to help on the digestion. You have seen more of human
nature than your modesty allows you to proclaim, and
I dare say this company would be gratified if you would
overcome all scruples, and let us know your private opinions
of the different people you have visited. Tell us something
of that dittur you made on the Rhine.”

“Mr. Dodge intends to publish, it is to be hoped!” observed
Mr. Sharp; “and it may not be fair to anticipate
his matter.”

“I beg, gentlemen, you will have no scruples on that
score, for my work will be rather philosophical and general,
than of the particular nature of private anecdotes.
Saunders, hand me the manuscript journal you will find on
the shelf of our state-room, next to Sir George's patent
tooth-pick case. This is the book; and now, gentlemen
and ladies, I beg you to remember that these are merely
the ideas as they arose, and not my more mature reflections.”

“Take a little punch, sir,” interrupted the captain, again,
whose hard nor'-west face was set in the most demure attention.
“There is nothing like punch to clear the voice,
Mr. Dodge; the acid removes the huskiness, the sugar
softens the tones, the water mellows the tongue, and the Jamaica
braces the muscles. With a plenty of punch, a man
soon gets to be another—I forget the name of that great
orator of antiquity,—it wasn't Vattel, however.”

“You mean Demosthenes, sir; and, gentlemen, I beg
you to remark that this orator was a republican: but there
can be no question that liberty is favourable to the encouragement
of all the higher qualities. Would you prefer a
few notes on Paris, ladies, or shall I commence with some
extracts about the Rhine?”

“Oh! de grace, Monsieur, be so very kind as not to
overlook Paris!” said Mademoiselle Viefville.

Mr. Dodge bowed graciously, and turning over the leaves
of his private journal, he alighted in the heart of the great
city named. After some preliminary hemming, he commenced
reading in a grave didactic tone, that sufficiently
showed the value he had attached to his own observations.

“`Dejjuned at ten, as usual, an hour, that I find exceedingly
unreasonable and improper, and one that would meet
with general disapprobation in America. I do not wonder
that a people gets to be immoral and depraved in their practices,
who keep such improper hours. The mind acquires
habits of impurity, and all the sensibilities become blunted,
by taking the meals out of the natural seasons. I impute
much of the corruption of France to the periods of the day
in which the food is taken—”'

“Voilà une drole d'idée!” ejaculated Mademoiselle Viefville.

“`—In which food is taken,” repeated Mr. Dodge, who
fancied the involuntary exclamation was in approbation of
the justice of his sentiments. `Indeed the custom of taking
wine at this meal, together with the immorality of the hour,
must be chief reasons why the French ladies are so much
in the practice of drinking to excess.”'

“Mais, monsieur!”

“You perceive, mademoiselle calls in question the accuracy
of your facts,” observed Mr. Blunt, who, in common
with all the listeners, Sir George and Mr. Monday excepted,
began to enjoy a scene which at first had promised nothing
but ennui and disgust.

“I have it on the best authority, I give you my honour,
or I would not introduce so grave a charge in a work of
this contemplated importance. I obtained my information
from an English gentleman who has resided twelve years
in Paris; and he informs me that a very large portion of
the women of fashion in that capital, let them belong to
what country they will, are dissipated.”

“A la bonne heure, monsieur!—mais, to drink, it is very
different.”

“Not so much so, mademoiselle, as you imagine,”

rejoined John Effingham. “Mr. Dodge is a purist in language
as well as in morals, and he uses terms differently
from us less-instructed prattlers. By dissipated, he understands
a drunkard.”

“Comment!”

“Certainly; Mr. John Effingham, I presume, will at
least give us the credit in America in speaking our language
better than any other known people. `After dejjunying,
took a phyacre and rode to the palace, to see the king and
royal family leave for Nully.—”'

“Pour où?”

“Pour Neuilly, mademoiselle,” Eve quietly answered.

“`—For Nully. His majesty went on horseback, preceding
his illustrious family and all the rest of the noble
party, dressed in a red coat, laced with white on the seams,
wearing blue breeches and a cocked hat.”'

“Ciel!”

“`I made the king a suitable republican reverence as he
passed, which he answered with a gracious smile, and a
benignant glance of his royal eye. The Hon. Louis Philippe
Orleans, the present sovereign of the French, is a
gentleman of portly and commanding appearance, and in
his state attire, which he wore on this occasion, looks `every
inch a king.' He rides with grace and dignity, and sets an
example of decorum and gravity to his subjects, by the
solemnity of his air, that it is to be hoped will produce a
beneficial and benign influence during this reign, on the
manners of the nation. His dignity was altogether worthy
of the schoolmaster of Haddonfield.”'

“Par exemple!”

“Yes, main'selle in the way of example, it is that I mean.
Although a pure democrat, and every way opposed to exclusion,
I was particularly struck with the royalty of his majesty's
demeanour, and the great simplicity of his whole
deportment. I stood in the crowd next to a very accomplished
countess, who spoke English, and she did me the
honour to invite me to pay her a visit at her hotel, in the
vicinity of the Bourse.”

“Mon Dieu—mon Dieu—mon Dieu!”

“After promising my fair companion to be punctual, I
walked as far as Notter Dam—”

“I wish Mr. Dodge would be a little more distinct in his
names,” said Mademoiselle Viefville, who had begun to take
an interest in the subject, that even valueless opinions excite
in us concerning things that touch the affections.

“Mr. Dodge is a little profane, mademoiselle,” observed
the captain; “but his journal probably was not intended
for the ladies, and you must overlook it. Well, sir, you
went to that naughty place—”

“To Notter Dam, Captain Truck, if you please, and I
flatter myself that is pretty good French.”

“I think, ladies and gentlemen, we have a right to insist
on a translation; for plain roast and boiled men, like Mr.
Monday and myself, are sometimes weeping when we ought
to laugh, so long as the discourse is in anything but old-fashioned
English. Help yourself, Mr. Monday, and remember,
you never drink.”

“Notter Dam, I believe, mam'selle, means our Mother;
the Church of our Mother.—Notter, or Noster, our,—Dam,
Mother: Notter Dam. `Here I was painfully impressed
with the irreligion of the structure, and the general absence
of piety in the architecture. Idolatry abounded, and so did
holy water. How often have I occasion to bless Providence
for having made me one of the descendants of those pious
ancestors who cast their fortunes in the wilderness in preference
to giving up their hold on faith and charity! The
building is much inferior in comfort and true taste to the
commoner American churches, and met with my unqualified
disapprobation.”'

“Est il possible que cela soit vrai, ma chère!”

“Je l'espère, bien, mademoiselle.”

“You may despair bien, cousin Eve,” said John Effingham,
whose fine curvilinear face curled even more than
usual with contempt.

The ladies whispered a few explanations, and Mr. Dodge,
who fancied it was only necessary to resolve to be perfect
to achieve his end, went on with his comments, with all the
self-satisfaction of a provincial critic.

“`From Notter Dam I proceeded in a cabrioly to the
great national burying-ground, Pere la Chaise, so termed
from the circumstance that its distance from the capital renders
chaises necessary for the convoys—”

“How's this, how's this!” interrupted Mr. Truck; “is
one obliged to sail under a convoy about the streets of
Paris?”

“Monsieur Dodge veut dire, convoi. Mr. Dodge mean
to say, convoi,” kindly interposed Mademoiselle Viefville.

“Mr. Dodge is a profound republican, and is an advocate
for rotation in language, as well as in office: I must accuse
you of inconstancy, my dear friend, if I die for it. You
certainly do not pronounce your words always in the same
way, and when I had the honour of carrying you out this
time six months, when you were practising the continentals,
as you call them, you gave very different sounds to many
of the words I then had the pleasure and gratification of
hearing you use.”

“We all improve by travelling, sir, and I make no question
that my knowledge of foreign language is considerably
enlarged by practice in the countries in which they are
spoken.”

Here the reading of the journal was interrupted by a
digression on language, in which Messrs. Dodge, Monday,
Templemore, and Truck were the principal interlocutors,
and during which the pitcher of punch was twice renewed.
We shall not record much of this learned discussion, which
was singularly common-place, though a few of the remarks
may be given as a specimen of the whole.

“I must be permitted to say,” replied Mr. Monday to
one of Mr. Dodge's sweeping claims to superiority in favour
of his own nation, “that I think it quite extraordinary an
Englishman should be obliged to go out of his own country
in order to hear his own language spoken in purity; and as
one who has seen your people, Mr. Dodge, I will venture
to affirm that nowhere is English better spoken than in Lancashire.
Sir George, I drink your health!”

“More patriotic than just, Mr. Monday; every body allows
that the American of the eastern states speaks the best
English in the world, and I think either of these gentlemen
will concede that.”

“Under the penalty of being nobody,” cried Captain
Truck; “for my own part, I think, if a man wishes to
hear the language in perfection, he ought to pass a week
or ten days in the river. I must say, Mr. Dodge, I object

to many of your sounds, particularly that of inyon, which
I myself heard you call onion, no later than yesterday.”

“Mr. Monday is a little peculiar in fancying that the best
English is to be met with in Lancashire,” observed Sir
George Templemore; “for I do assure you that, in town,
we have difficulty in understanding gentlemen from your
part of the kingdom.”

This was a hard cut from one in whom Mr. Monday expected
to find an ally, and that gentleman was driven to
washing down the discontent it excited, in punch.

“But all this time we have interrupted the convoi, or
convoy, captain,” said Mr. Sharp; “and Mr. Dodge, to say
nothing of the mourners, has every right to complain. I
beg that gentleman will proceed with his entertaining extracts.”

Mr. Dodge hemmed, sipped a little more liquor, blew his
nose, and continued:

“`The celebrated cemetery is, indeed, worthy of its high
reputation. The utmost republican simplicity prevails in
the interments, ditches being dug in which the bodies are
laid, side by side, without distinction of rank, and with regard
only to the order in which the convoys arrive.' I
think this sentence, gentlemen, will have great success in
America, where the idea of any exclusiveness is quite
odious to the majority.”

“Well, for my part,” said the captain, “I should have
no particular objection to being excluded from such a grave:
one would be afraid of catching the cholera in so promiscuous
a company.”

Mr. Dodge turned over a few leaves, and gave other
extracts.

“`The last six hours have been devoted to a profound
investigation of the fine arts. My first visit was to the gullyteen;
after which I passed an instructive hour or two in
the galleries of the Musy.'—”

“Où, donc?”

“Le Musée, mademoiselle.”

“—`Where I discovered several very extraordinary
things, in the way of sculpture and painting. I was particularly
struck with the manner in which a plate was portrayed
in the celebrated marriage of Cana, which might

very well have been taken for real Delft, and there was one
finger on the hand of a lady that seemed actually fitted to
receive and to retain the hymeneal ring.”'

“Did you inquire if she were engaged?—Mr. Monday,
we will drink her health.”

“`Saint Michael and the Dragon is a shefdowvry.'—”

“Un quoi?”

“Un chef-d'œuvre, mademoiselle.”

“—`The manner in which the angel holds the dragon
with his feet, looking exactly like a worm trodden on by
the foot of a child, is exquisitely plaintive and interesting.
Indeed these touches of nature abound in the works of the
old masters, and I saw several fruit-pieces that I could have
eaten. One really gets an appetite by looking at many
things here, and I no longer wonder that a Raphael, a Titian,
a Correggio, a Guide-o.'—”

“Un qui?”

“Un Guido, mademoiselle.”

“Or a Cooley.”

“And pray who may he be?” asked Mr. Monday.

“A young genius in Dodgetown, who promises one day
to render the name of an American illustrious. He has
painted a new sign for the store, that in its way is quite
equal to the marriage of Cana. `I have stood with tears
over the despair of a Niobe,”' continuing to read, “`and
witnessed the contortions of the snakes in the Laocoon with
a convulsive eagerness to clutch them, that has made me
fancy I could hear them hiss.” That sentence, I think,
will be likely to be noticed even in the New-Old-New-Yorker,
one of the very best reviews of our days, gentlemen.”

“Take a little more punch, Mr. Dodge,” put in the attentive
captain; “this grows affecting, and needs alleviation, as
Saunders would say. Mr. Monday, you will get a bad
name for being too sober, if you never empty your glass.
Proceed, in the name of Heaven! Mr. Dodge.”

“`In the evening I went to the Grand Opery.'—”

“Où, donc?”

“Au grand Hoppery, mademoiselle,” replied John Effingham.

“—`To the Grand Opery,”' resumed Mr. Dodge, with

emphasis, his eyes beginning to glisten by this time, for he
had often applied to the punch for inspiration, “`where I
listened to music that is altogether inferior to that which
we enjoy in America, especially at the general trainings,
and on the Sabbath. The want of science was conspicuous;
and if this be music, then do I know nothing about it!”'

“A judicious remark!” exclaimed the captain.—“Mr.
Dodge has great merit as a writer, for he loses no occasion
to illustrate his opinions by the most unanswerable facts.
He has acquired a taste for Zip Coon and Long Tail Blue,
and it is no wonder he feels a contempt for your inferior
artists.”

“`As for the dancing,”' continued the editor of the Active
Inquirer, “`it is my decided impression that nothing
can be worse. The movement was more suited to a funeral
than the ball-room, and I affirm, without fear of contradiction,
that there is not an assembly in all America in which
a cotillion would not be danced in one-half the time that
one was danced in the bally to-night.”'

“Dans le quoi?”

“I believe I have not given the real Parisian pronunciation
to this word, which the French call bal-lay,” continued
the reader, with great candour.

“Belay, or make all fast, as we say on ship-board. Mr.
Dodge, as master of this vessel, I beg to return you the
united, or as Saunders would say, the condensed thanks of
the passengers, for this information; and next Saturday we
look for a renewal of the pleasure. The ladies are getting
to be sleepy, I perceive, and as Mr. Monday never drinks
and the other gentlemen have finished their punch, we may
as well retire, to get ready for a hard day's work to-morrow.”

Captain Truck made this proposal, because he saw that
one or two of the party were plenum punch, and that Eve
and her companion were becoming aware of the propriety
of retiring. It was also true that he foresaw the necessity
of rest, in order to be ready for the exertions of the morning.

After the party had broken up, which it did very contrary
to the wishes of Messrs. Dodge and Monday, Mademoiselle
Viefville passed an hour in the state-room of Miss

Effingham, during which time she made several supererogatory
complaints of the manner in which the editor of the
Active Inquirer had viewed things in Paris, besides asking
a good many questions concerning his occupation and character.

“I am not quite certain, my dear mademoiselle, that I
can give you a very learned description of the animal you
think worthy of all these questions, but, by the aid of Mr.
John Effingham's information, and a few words that have
fallen from Mr. Blunt, I believe it ought to be something as
follows:—America once produced a very distinguished philosopher,
named Franklin—”

“Comment, ma chère! Tout le monde le connait!”

“—This Monsieur Franklin commenced life as a printer;
but living to a great age, and rising to high employments,
he became a philosopher in morals, as his studies
had made him one in physics. Now, America is full of
printers, and most of them fancy themselves Franklins, until
time and failures teach them discretion.”

“Mais the world has not seen but un seul Franklin!”

“Nor is it likely to see another very soon. In America
the young men are taught, justly enough, that by merit
they may rise to the highest situations; and, always according
to Mr. John Effingham, too many of them fancy
that because they are at liberty to turn any high qualities
they may happen to have to account, they are actually
fit for anything. Even he allows this peculiarity of the
country does much good, but he maintains that it also does
much harm, by causing pretenders to start up in all directions.
Of this class he describes Mr. Dodge to be. This
person, instead of working at the mechanical part of a
press, to which he was educated, has the ambition to control
its intellectual, and thus edits the Active Inquirer.”

“It must be a very useful journal!”

“It answers his purposes, most probably. He is full of
provincial ignorance, and provincial prejudices, you perceive;
and, I dare say, he makes his paper the circulator
of all these, in addition to the personal rancour, envy, and
uncharitableness, that usually distinguish a pretension that
mistakes itself for ambition. My cousin Jack affirms that
America is filled with such as he.”

“And, Monsieur Effingham?”

“Oh! my dear father is all mildness and charity, you
know, mademoiselle, and he only looks at the bright side
of the picture, for he maintains that a great deal of good
results from the activity and elasticity of such a state of
things. While he confesses to a great deal of downright
ignorance that is paraded as knowledge; to much narrow
intolerance that is offensively prominent in the disguise of
principle, and a love of liberty; and to vulgarity and personalities
that wound all taste, and every sentiment of right,
he insists on it that the main result is good.”

“In such a case there is need of an umpire. You
mentioned the opinion of Mr. Blunt. Comme ce jeune homme
parle bien Français!”

Eve hesitated, and she changed colour slightly, before
she answered.

“I am not certain that the opinion of Mr. Blunt ought to
be mentioned in opposition to those of my father and cousin
Jack, on such a subject,” she said. “He is very young, and
it is, now, quite questionable whether he is even an American
at all.”

“Tant mieux, ma chère. He has been much in the
country, and it is not the native that make the best judge,
when the stranger has many opportunities of seeing.”

“On this principle, mademoiselle, you are, then, to give
up your own judgment about France, on all those points in
which I have the misfortune to differ from you,” said Eve,
laughing.

“Pas tout à fait,” returned the governess goodhumouredly.
“Age and experience must pass pour quelque chose.
Et Monsieur Blunt?—”

“Monsieur Blunt leans nearer to the side of cousin Jack,
I fear, than to that of my dear, dear father. He says men
of Mr. Dodge's character, propensities, malignancy, intolerance,
ignorance, vulgarity, and peculiar vices abound in
and about the American press. He even insists that they
do an incalculable amount of harm, by influencing those
who have no better sources of information; by setting up
low jealousies and envy in the place of principles and the
right; by substituting—I use his own words, mademoiselle,”
said Eve, blushing with the consciousness of the fidelity of

her memory—“by substituting uninstructed provincial notions
for true taste and liberality; by confounding the real
principles of liberty with personal envies, and the jealousies
of station; and by losing sight entirely of their duties to
the public, in the effort to advance their own interests. He
says that the government is in truth a press-ocracy, and a
press-ocracy, too, that has not the redeeming merit of either
principles, tastes, talents or knowledge.”

“Ce Monsieur Blunt has been very explicit, and suffisamment
eloquent,” returned Mademoiselle Viefville, gravely;
for the prudent governess did not fail to observe that Eve
used language so very different from that which was habitual
to her, as to make her suspect she quoted literally. For the
first time the suspicion was painfully awakened, that it was
her duty to be more vigilant in relation to the intercourse
between her charge and the two agreeable young men whom
accident had given them as fellow-passengers. After a short
but musing pause, she again adverted to the subject of their
previous conversation.

“Ce Monsieur Dodge, est il ridicule!”

“On that point at least, my dear mademoiselle, there can
be no mistake. And yet cousin Jack insists that this stuff
will be given to his readers, as views of Europe worthy of
their attention.”

“Ce conte du roi!—mais, c'est trop fort!”

“With the coat laced at the seams, and the cocked hat!”

“Et l'honorable Louis Philippe d'Orleans!”

“Orleans, mademoiselle; d'Orleans would be anti-republican.”

Then the two ladies sat looking at each other a few moments
in silence, when both, although of a proper retenue
of manner in general, burst into a hearty and long-continued
fit of laughter. Indeed, so long did Eve, in the buoyancy
of her young spirits, and her keen perception of the ludicrous,
indulge herself, that her fair hair fell about her rosy
cheeks, and her bright eyes fairly danced with delight.